CinderFella
by Nanasuka
Summary: Nanasuka is back with another fractured fairy tale, starring Weiss. This time it's Cinderella. Poor Ken is practically a slave to his step-Bradmomma, and poor Prince(Princess?) Charming is a pawn to King Farf's ambitions. What happens when they get togeth
1. Cast The Invitation

**CINDERFELLA**  
  
Okay you guys! Nanasuka is back and here to send "Cinderella" flying in your face! Except this time, we bastardized it! Weiß style! :D So sit back, relax, and enjoy the insanity!  
  
**Starring:**

Ken as Cinderella;  
Aya as Ugly Step Sister #1 (Anastasia);  
Yoji as 'Ugly' Step Sister #2 (Drizella);   
Omi as Disgruntled Mouse Homie #1 (Jack);   
Crawford as the Evil Step Mother;   
Schuldig as the Fairy God Mother;  
Farferello as the King;   
Nagi as Disgruntled Mouse Homie #2 (Gus);  
Persia as The Duke;   
_and Introducing   
_Ten as the Prince  
  
_Note: Ten is Nanaki's original character. It's a 'she'_.  
  
And oh yeah...  
  
Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz belongs to Project Weiß and all associated affiliates, we do not own it or the characters (if we did, all Hell would break loose), and also, we do not, nor do we claim to, own Adidas, F50s, or any other Adidas-related merchandise; it is copyright and trademarked to it's respective companies. And now, without further adieu, teh storeh! :D  
  
"CINDERELLA! God damn it! Mop these floors! They're so damn filthy!" screamed Bradmomma, pointing at the spotless floors in disgust.  
  
"Yes, Bradmomma!" Cinderella said, and proceeded to sit where he was in protest. Why is Bradmomma ordering poor Cinderella around like this, you ask? Well, I'll tell you:  
Once upon a time, there lived a crazy old guy and his wife. They wished for a child for a few years, and one day, their wish was granted. The wife had a lovely baby boy, but being a little gender confused (what the fuck?), she named him Ella. She died shortly after anyways, so that's not important.  
Anyways, Ella grew up a happy little boy, even though his crazy father was constantly putting him in dresses and teaching him how to do all these girly things. Ella wasn't sure why all his friends at school were running around wearing pants and playing soccer after school (damn that looked like fun...) and he was frolicking around in a dress and learning to sing and dance. What the hell?! Well anyways, one day, his crazy dad found a new lady to marry; she had two children from her previous marriage. They got married, and shortly afterwards, our dear Ella was made to wear tattered rags and work like a dog around the clock, attending to his new mom and step-sisters' whims.  
When he did catch a break, he would sit by the fire and get ashes all over his rags, earning him the name 'CinderElla'. He hated that name. Stupid bastards. It was bad enough his mom had called him something like Ella in the first place, but God damn! Now CINDER-Ella?! Well, he wasn't really in a position to complain, so he just sort of sucked it up.  
"Cinderella! I said mop! Don't make me go postal on your ass like last time, because you know I will! I'll sic my cat on your stupid little disgruntled mice homies, I swear!" shouted Bradmomma, a scary looking angry vane popping out on his forehead. Cinderella's eyes widened in horror at the prospect of his precious disgruntled mice homies being reduced to Kitty Chow. He sprang to his feet and went in search of the mop. If cleaning a spotless floor was the worst he was subjected to today, then Cinderella considered it a good day.  
  
Meanwhile, at the Palace out the house, down the street, through the town, on top of this really really big-ass hill, the King was sitting in his study, chewing on paper.  
"You! Random servant!" shouted the King, "Yeah, you; go get my son." The random servant nodded and took off. It took a few minutes, but he returned with the Prince.  
"Yes?" she asked.  
"Ah, sonny-boy! So wonderful to see you--"  
"Dad... what the hell. Stop calling me your son! I'm a woman! See? Boobs!" she said, motioning to her chest, which was not all that small. The King waved his hand dismissively,  
"I'll not have you spouting such nonsense!" he said, slamming a hand down on the desk. The Prince rubbed his temples. How the hell did this shit get started? Well, I'll tell you:  
Once upon a time, the King and Queen prayed for a child; preferably a son. When the Queen had a daughter and died a few minutes later, the King was damn upset, but decided not to let this minor upset get in the way of his plans for world domination! He raised his daughter as a man, even though she had every idea that she was actually a chick. She was taught arithmetic and science, and all that other fun boy stuff, and she was stuck playing soccer outside. Not that it wasn't fun or anything... but that wasn't the point. She was only stuck doing it because her dad was mental.  
So, she gave up fighting him earlier on, but it still pissed her off when he called her his 'son' when it was so painfully obvious that she was a woman. And when people pointed it out, they got sent right to the gallows... poor suckers. But anyways, now that that's been explained, on with the story!  
"So, you called me here because...?" she questioned, crossing her arms in annoyance.  
"You're old enough now to start choosing a bride, so we're having a ball tomorrow night. All the eligible ladies in the country will be attending, and from them, you're going to choose a wife--"  
"But dad! Woman! Even if I marry a woman, we can't have babies! There's no sperm involved in THAT union!"  
"Tish tosh! We'll worry about the details later! I need to get you a wife though, or else you'll lose your standing as Prince and you won't be able to ascend when I die!"  
"Dad..."  
"Yes?"  
"You're nuts!" she shouted, clearly agitated. The King waved his hand,  
"Yes well... you're annoying! Leave now! I just thought it fair to inform you of my plans. So, be ready, because you're going to pick me a daughter-in-law!"  
"...Eat me," she said, then turned and left.  
  
And so... back at Cinderella's house...  
By the time Cinderella had finished cleaning the spotless floor, his ugly stepsisters made their appearance. They were a couple of pieces of work. It was looking at these two that Cinderella realized why his father had married Bradmomma. Like Cinderella himself, his stepsisters Anastasia (the redheaded one) and Drizella (the blonde) were really men who wore dresses on a regular basis (except theirs were frilly and expensive and much better looking than his) and lived their lives as women. And with names like theirs, Cinderella suspected that Bradmomma, too, was gender confused as well. (And he had a sneaky theory that Bradmomma just might be a man, too)  
Anywhoo, the Stepsisters weren't too bad looking, really, but what made them ugly (at least in Cinderella's book) was the fact that they enjoyed their crossdressing.  
But anywhoo, they came down just as Cinderella finished his mopping and began ordering him around trying to get ready for something-or-other.  
"Cinderella! Go fetch my coat. NO, not THAT coat you idiot girl, my GOOD coat. This WILL be a royal proclamation, after all!" screeched Drizella.  
Cinderella's mouse homies were skittering along the baseboards and slipped through the crack in the door, listening to Bradmomma and his two 'daughters' discussing what was happening with this 'proclamation' do- hickey.  
"When did the invitation arrive?" asked Bradmomma, snatching it from Anastasia's hands.  
"Just a few moments ago! A steward from the Palace dropped it off. What do you suppose it's about?" he asked, clasping his hands together,  
"We'll find out in a moment," said Bradmomma, quickly scanning the contents of the invitation. "Hmm... all eligible maidens are being cordially invited by dramatic gasp His Majesty the King and His Son to a ball another gasp tomorrow night! How wonderful! This is my chance to get even richer! Girls, you must do everything possible to get the Prince to choose one of you!" shouted Bradmomma, barely able to contain his glee.


	2. I do TOO have a dress!

**CINDERFELLA**  
  
**Chapter Two:**  
  
The mouse homies Jack and Gus looked at each other, then at the sisters and Bradmomma, and waited for them to continue.  
"The Prince!" Anastasia squealed as he tried on various hats in front of a mirror. "He's supposed to be handsome beyond all reckoning! Don't even bother coming, Drizella, because the moment he lays eyes on me his choice will be made." Drizella plucked his 'good' jacket out of Cinderella's hands and pushed Anastasia away from the mirror,  
"Yeah, to find someone else. Everyone knows the Prince will choose ME," he said, giving the lapels on his jacket a tug for added effect. "Cinderella! My shoes!" he called. The mouse homies Jack and Gus scampered out the door, finding Cinderella. They stopped him and tugged at the hem of his skirt,  
"Yo, Cinderella, mah down home g-man; them damn ugly step sisters o' y'alls is discussin' some so'ta par-tay on da eve followin'. Y'all should be askin' if you can accompany thems to da partay, since da Prince should be choosin' himself a wifey, and requested all da eligible shorties in da kingdom, yo," said Jack, striking a stereotyped pose. Gus just kind of stood around aimlessly doing nothing. Cinderella let out an exasperated sigh,  
"But I'm not a girl," he protested. "I don't want to be nobody's 'wifey.' " He admitted being able to get out of the house and go dancing for once would be fun, but still. There was no way he was going out in public in a dress. Not anymore. Gus saw his chance then, and started chattering,  
"But Cinders, you should go anyways. Since all the eligible ladies in the kingdom will be there, and only one is going to get chosen, there will be plenty of other ladies there for you to try and pick up, right?" he said, twitching nervously. Damn that nervous tick. Damn. He hated when the mouse homies were right.  
"Well... that's true, but if I go with Bradmomma and my Step- 'sisters', they'll make me wear a dress, won't they?" he asked... As many ladies as would be there, they wouldn't go for a dude in a dress when the prince was there.  
"Hmmm... perhaps," answered Gus.  
"But-- if y'all go wearin' a suit unda'neeth yo dress, then y'all can change when ya get dere," said Jack, striking a similar pose. Cinderella thought about that idea for a moment. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense,  
"Yea! That's tight! Y'alls da shizzle, yo." He said, and then stopped himself. It never failed. Talk to the mouse homies too much, and Cinderella always ended up talking like they did. "Thanks," he finished, and left to go find Bradmomma.  
  
"You must be joking..." uttered a slightly apalled Bradmomma. Cinderella wanted to do... what? Go to the ball with them? "Absolutely not! All you have are rags, and I am most certainly not going to have my good name tarnished by your shoddy dress code," Bradmomma shouted, arms crossed.  
"But.. but.." Cinderella protested, trying desperately to come up with an excuse. "I HAVE a dress. A good one. I - I've been saving it for a special occasion," he spurt out the first lie that came to mind. "This is special, isn't it? I just know you'll approve of the dress, Bradmomma. PLEASE let me go."  
It almost hurt Cinderella to say it, but he had to go. He'd swipe some of his father's good clothes and change at the ball. Then he'd get a rich countess to marry him and he'd be rid of his goddamned family. Bradmomma grimaced,  
"Eugh... fine. We'll see. But you can only go if it's nice, and to my approval!" Bradmomma spouted, turning a little red in the face. If the little brat found a suitable dress, then he'd have to let Cinderella go, and there was no way Bradmomma was going to let that happen. Or... so he hoped.  
"Yes Bradmomma!" said Cinderella, and he ran back to his Mouse- Homies. Now he'd have to come up with a dress, of course. The problem was, he had no such dress. His only hope was that the mouse-homies would be able to pull something together.  
  
"Jack, Gus, you've gotta help me!" he said breathlessly when he found the mice. Gus was bowled off his chair completely while Jack dropped his piece of cheese and covered his ears,  
"Dayum... so, mah down-home g-man, wut can we's do fo' y'all?" he asked, picking his cheese back up as he looked up at Cinderella. Gus found his way back up onto the chair and his cheese... eventually.  
"I told Bradmomma that I had a nice dress to go to the ball in... and he said that if he approves of it I can go... but I don't HAVE any nice dresses..." Cinderella rambled off in one breath. "You've got to find me a dress or I'm screwed!"  
"I...I'm afraid I don't follow. You want us to find you a dress by tomorrow night? And how exactly are we supposed to do that? Steal one from your step...siblings?" asked Gus, nibbling on the corner of his cheese. Cinderella thought about that idea for a moment. It seemed appealing, but...  
"... no.. Bradmomma will recognise it... maybe if you steal one and change it somehow?" Jack rubbed his forehead sorely,  
"So, y'all wants me and Gus to go stealz a dress from one uh yo' sistahs, and change it? Sounds easeh. You gots an idea about which dress y'allz wants?" he asked, taking a bite of his cheese. Cinderella honestly didn't care. A dress was a dress as far as he was concerned. He didn't like wearing any dress... but it had to be a good one or else Bradmomma wouldn't let him go to the ball,  
"A nice one. Something that looks expensive. I don't care which one." Gus nodded,  
"Right. We'll get right on it," he said, giving Cinderella a small salute. Jack stretched,  
"Latah," he said, shoving the last of the cheese into his mouth before taking off with Gus. And so, the mice set to work.  
  
The following evening, after all the day's chores had been done, and the stepsisters and Bradmomma were downstairs putting the final touches on their dresses, makeup, and etc, the mouse homies called Cinderella up to his room.  
"Good evening," said Gus politely as he entered. Jack fidgeted,  
"Yo' dress, g-man," he said, pointing to the dress in the corner where the dress was...uhm... sitting? Cinderella picked the dress up and inspected it.  
"Great. This is perfect," he approved, and went to change... once he had, he went down to Bradmomma to get his approval.  
"Bradmomma, here's my dress," he said. "Do you like it?" Bradmomma, who was just about to leave with his two 'daughters', turned around to address the problem at hand. He blanched slightly; so Cinderella really did have a dress?! No! This couldn't be happening! They had a ball to go and a prince to impress! They couldn't--! But wait... Bradmomma, upon second inspection, noted something he could at least point out,  
"Oh... well, it's lovely, Cinderella," he said, "However... it looks terribly familiar..." he said, crossing his arms delicately. Drizella turned around to look at Cinderella's dress at this point, and gasped in horror at what he saw,  
"That's MY dress!" he shouted. "Except you've added this HORRIBLY tacky lace to it!" And with that, he tore off the lace. This got Anastasia's attention, and he too tore something off the dress.  
"And how COULD you add this ribbon?" he exclaimed in disgust. The pair continued tearing things off the dress, regardless of whether they were additions or not, until the dress barely stayed on Cinderella's body. Bradmomma smiled gently,  
"Well... it seems you really haven't a dress to go in anymore, now have you?" he said, then turned to his 'girls'. "Anastacia, Drizella; come, let us go," he said, then sauntered out the door, his 'daughters' in tow. 


	3. Enter the Fairy

**CINDERFELLA  
  
Chapter Three:**  
  
Cinderella fought back tears as his stepfamily left without him. This was his one chance to be able to escape from this hell-hole, gone. He collapsed onto the floor and just sat where he was. Then Cinderella heard a squeaking noise coming from the impossibly high cielings. High up in the rafters was a fairy, male, in a dress with fake wings, being lowered on wires by two stage hands dressed in black. One of the stage hands lost his grip on the rope, and the fairy-man dropped two meters. Then when the added weight hit the other stage hand, it proved to be too much for him to handle and he, too, let go of the wire. The fairy fell the remaining distance before hitting the floor with a smack.  
It was then that Jack and Gus broke into uproarious mouse laughter, tittering wildly. Gus merely rolled while Jack managed to keep some composure,  
"Dayum, faireh-boi! Yo' too fat, crackah! Dat's why dem stage hands dropped y'all!" he managed to blurt, falling back to join in Gus' rolling laughter. The fairy-man got up and dusted himself off.  
"Shut up or I'll turn you both into worms and go fishing," he threatened the two mouse homies. Then he turned his attention to the stage hands, "You clumsy, uncoordinated MORONS! Who hired you, a monkey!?" Then, the fairy turned his attention to his dress. It was something reminiscent of a ballerina's dress, with a short skirt that flared out quite dramatically, showing off a good part of his legs, which were covered in opaque white leotards. Ballet slippers were on his feet and his long red hair was tied up with a glittering Tiara. The fairy let out an exasperated sigh.  
"And who did the costumes around here? This was SO not in my contract. You'll be hearing from my agent, let me tell you!!!" he yelled to what seemed like no one in particular. A familiar squeaking sound was heard and on either of the fairy-man's shoulders there appeared a blob chibi; it was the director and her cohort. The director's cohort let out a growl-like noise and latched onto his ear lobe with her nasty sharp teeth, gnawing ravenously on it. The fairy looked at either of the chibies who had appeared on his shoulders. The one on his right, the director, he recognised,  
"YOU. I should have known. What's the big idea?" he demanded.  
"You're the fairy," said the director, and smiled a huge, cheezy smile. The fairy was about to protest when a thought hit him... if the Director was involved, then the blob-chibi hanging from his ear had to be . . .  
"Quit it, you," he said to the Director's Cohort, attempting to flick her off his ear. The cohort simply latched on tighter, which probably caused more pain, then she got bored and let go, dropping to his shoulder, regaining her vacant facial expression,  
"We can always put you in something even gheyer if you really don't like this design," she mumbled, her mouth much like a 0. The fairy pondered the threat. With these two, he was sure it meant that they actually HAD something gheyer to put him in... and so he decided to let the costume issue slide for now.  
"No, that's fine," he insisted.  
"Good," The director said. "Now quit complaining and get back to the story." The cohort nodded, and with that and the same squeak from before, they both vanished. And so the story continued.  
  
Cinderella had stood up when the fairy hit floor, partly out of surprise and partly out of concern. When he . . . she . . . it . . . got up it seemed like he was fine, but then he had started complaining and talking to nobody that Cinderella could see. Great. His Fairy God . . . parent was talking to himself. Cinderella might as well hitchhike to the ball as he was.  
"Anyway," said the fairy. "I'm your fairy godmother. I suppose you'll be wanting me to give you a gorgeous dress and hairstyle, a luxurious coach complete with footmen et al so you can go to the ball and attempt to win over your Prince Charming, right?"  
Jack and Gus had since calmed down and were sitting atop... a random thing. Which was used for sitting. Gus sighed indignantly as he listened to the Fairy-man talk to the air; was he Schizophrenic? Jack tapped his paws together, listening then as the Fairy-man made a proposition to Cinderella,  
"Yo g-man! Take da man's offa! At least den y'all can go to da ball, yo!" he shouted to Cinderella, waving an arm frantically as little tickies appeared above him to show the audience where he was.  
"I don't want to try and pick up some prince, I want to pick up a beautiful young lady!" Cinderella protested. "I'm all for the luxurious coach, but couldn't you let me wear men's clothing, for once?" He was on a roll now. There was no way Cinderella was putting up with crap from some fruit of a fairy.  
"And how can you be my fairy god MOTHER if you're a man?" The fairy pulled a rather thick softcover book with spiral bindings from out of nowhere and threw it at Cinderella,  
"Because the script says so," he said. "Do you wanna go to the ball or no?" The mouse homies burst into another fit of uproarious mouse laughter as Jack continuously tittered, rolling all over the ... sitting apparatus while Gus attempted to keep his composure this time,  
"Just take the dress. Even if the prince DOES pick you up, at least then you're free. And besides, your sisters never shut up about how the prince is so über-hot, so being married to a hot man is better than being stuck here, no?" he offered, trying to ...rationalize? with Cinderella.  
Cinderella could argue that he seriously questioned his 'sisters' definition of an über-hot guy. He could also argue that if the prince DID marry him and attempt to gulp make babies with him on their wedding night, find out he was a guy and have his head cut off... but he reconsidered. Even if he ended up dead it was better than being alive in his current situation,  
"Alright, I'll go," Cinderella decided.  
"Good man," said Gus. "Because you gotta know... the Prince has to be at least a little ghey if he's picking you up because, let's face it; you're not the girliest man in a dress we've ever seen." Jack had since stopped laughing hysterically and was now merely tittering,  
"Yea, g-man. Y'all ain't no girleh-boi, dat's fo' shizzle. Y'all just a man in a dress," he said, giggling. Gus snickered but said nothing. Cinderella's eyes went wide. He hadn't realized that... but still, being another man's husband... wife? was STILL better than his current life, especially being an über-hot prince's husband erm... wife?  
"Still...I can't stay here," he said. The fairy smirked and cracked his fingers all at once.  
"Great. Let's get started, then. I'm going to need a pumpkin, and a few rats. And those mice over there. Quick!"  
Cinderella jumped up and quickly went to retreive the pumpkin and the rats, but found that there were no pumpkins left from the harvest, and took an onion instead and set them before the fairy. The fairy pulled out his wand and waved it above the objects, not bothering to ask about the onion,  
"Hocuscadabra!" he said triumphantly. The onion became a carriage. The mouse-homies the mules that pulled it, and the rats became footmen. "And your dress," said the fairy, moving on to Cinderella.  
"You had better give me comfy shoes," Cinderella complained as the fairy did his thing.  
"Hocuscadabra!" Cinderella found himself wearing the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. His face was beautifully made up, and in his hair was a glittering diamond tiara. Cinderella lifted the skirts of his dress to take a look at his shoes,  
"Adidas F50s!" he exclaimed happily.  
"Comfy, aren't they?" explained the fairy proudly. "Your dress is so long no one can see your feet anyway. Now get going so I can call my agent." Cinderella ran for his onion-carriage and stopped just short of it. He turned back to the fairy,  
"Thanks a lot!" he said and was off. As the ...carriage pulled away, the Fairy turned and shouted as he was dialing on his cell phone,  
"Be back by midnight! That's when the spell wears off!" though whether or not Cinderella heard him or not, he was unsure. 


	4. The Ball

**CINDERFELLA  
  
Chapter Four:**  
  
And so... at the ball...  
The Prince sighed indignantly, waving her hand dismissively at the young woman that presented herself,  
"Too frilly," she said. She was actually lying. She admitted that if she were in fact a man, she'd probably have taken any number of the young ladies that had presented themselves tonight... however, she was not a man, and had no interest in taking a woman as a wife. As a result, she was coming up with any and every excuse she could possibly find to dismiss the ladies that presented themselves. Her uncle, the duke, was getting a little upset,  
"Your Highness; nearly every woman has presented herself to you, and yet still you refuse to choose one. Why is this? It's very vexing," he said, tapping his temple impatiently. The Prince turned to him,  
"Because, uncle, my dad is insane and seems to think I WANT to marry a pretty lady. Whatever happened to marrying a pretty BOY?" she asked, crossing her arms in a childlike manner. The duke sighed in aggravation,  
"Your preferences are none of my concern, but if you don't choose a wife from the women here tonight, your Father will have my head!" he hissed, wringing his hands nervously. The Prince shrugged and leaned on the right arm of her chair, throwing her leg over the left,  
"That's not my problem now, is it, uncle?" she said, blowing a raspberry at him. The duke paled slightly in both aggravation and anxiety,  
"Please!" he begged. She groaned in annoyance,  
"SON!" The Prince jolted and the both of them turned to face the King, "How many times have I told you, SIT UP STRAIGHT!" he hollered, his eye twitching involuntarily. The Prince cowered in her seat, then sat up straight. After a moment though, she rested her chin in her hand as her elbow rested on the arm of the chair. Out of boredom and utter idleness, she tapped her delicate, princely fingers on the other arm. The King turned away from his bored child to the Duke,  
"Well, has he made any progress yet?" he asked in annoyance. The duke looked around nervously,  
"Well, Your Highness, sh-- he hasn't really taken a fancy to any of them..." he muttered, clearly unimpressed by the King's attitude. The King went a little red in the face and turned out to the crowd of ladies,  
"How?! There are so many pretty ladies here this evening! Why wouldn't he like one of them!?" he shrieked, turning more purple than red.  
Anastasia and Drizella arrived at the ball with their mother with impeccable timing; as soon as they arrived it was time for them to present themselves to the Prince. A doorman entered the ballroom ahead of them to announce their presence,  
"May I present to your Royal Highnesses, The Lady Crawford and her daughters, Anastasia and Drizella," The doorman bowed and the sisters entered the ballroom. The Prince imagined that if she were taking a drink of something that she would have spat it out at the sight of the two 'daughters' and the 'Lady Crawford'. Never before could she remember seeing a manlier group. Either they were just extremely masculine, or they were men in dresses.  
"Your Highnesses!" piped Bradmomma, well beyond overly-enthused. "I'm so happy you've decided to take an audience with myself and my two wonderful girls--"  
"You know, I called for all the eligible maidens, Lady Crawford... so it's not as if we've been inconvenienced..." interuppted the Prince, looking up at Bradmomma without so much as batting an eyelash, "except for me..." she added, under her breath. Bradmomma faltered, then laughed good- naturedly,  
"Well, we thank you anyways, Your Collective Highnesses! And, Your Majesty, I am certain you will find both of my daughters quite eligible and quite beautiful as well," he sighed, laughing again. The Prince looked up at Lady Crawford as if he'd grown a second head, then she shrugged and greeted the two daughters, looking them over. It was her duty anyway... not that she really minded. Or at least, she wouldn't have minded as much if their make-up wasn't so tackily overdone. She figured that beneath it all, they both had natural beauty, especially the blonde one... especially the blonde one.  
But that wasn't the point. She didn't really have any interest in either of them. Partly because their mother was far too eager; it had to be something to do with the family fortune that was also at stake if she didn't marry. And also partly because she didn't really want to marry a man that enjoyed crossdressing as these two seemed to. It just seemed... almost unnatural. Not that she was any exception, but she didn't enjoy it. She sighed in apprehension, then waved her hand dismissively,  
"I'm sorry, no. Perhaps some other time," she said, then crossed her legs in a rather feminine manner and rested her neatly-folded hands in her lap. The sisters preferred to interpret the comment as "some other time this evening" and proceeded to take their absence of the Prince, flirting with other men in the crowd in an attempt to make His Highness jealous.  
  
Cinderella's onion-carriage arrived shortly thereafter. He entered the ballroom more than slightly apprehensive. Cinderella had accomplished Step One: He was at the ball. Now the hard part. Getting one of the many lovely ladies to take him seriously. He attempted to mingle with the crowd, but it was hard not to feel stupid when you're a man in a spectacularly gorgeous dress. (Although his Stepsisters seemed to be managing it). Cinderella ended up just wandering around awkwardly.  
The King looked as if he were about to burst, he was so red and puffy. Instead, he calmly turned to his 'son',  
"You know, son... you could at least pretend like you want to be here by mingling with the crowd a little. There are many, many beautiful women here tonight and I'm having a difficult time figuring out why you haven't been able to pick one," he said, his voice severe. The Prince rubbed her temples; so her dad had really and totally convinced himself she was a man. Go figure. She sighed in aggravation,  
"Dad, if you like so many of them, why don't YOU pick a wife out of them? I don't want any of them," she said, waving her hand sloppily. The King growled and looked as if he would strike her, when he heard the doorman calling to another young woman. The King turned to the Duke,  
"See that he at least dances with this one. I will have a daughter- in-law by night's end!" he hissed, then turned and stormed out. The Prince growled and shook her fist in her father's direction, then waited for the doorman to introduce the next reject.  
Cinderella quickly became aware of a voice calling to him. It was a doorman,  
"Miss! Miss!.. Miss, you need to present yourself to the prince," said the doorman. He led Cinderella to the Prince's Presence, and after whispering to Cinderella for his name, presented him.  
"May I present to your Royal Highnesses, Miss Ella." Cinderella curtsied for the prince as he figured he was expected to. Then he looked up at this Prince to see just how hot he really was. The first thing he saw was the Prince's rather large chest. Wow! What huge pecs! This Prince must REALLY pump iron.  
The Prince sighed and waited for Miss Ella to present herself and glanced up at her. Okay... not her. Him. Wow, this seemed to be a momentary trend. She glanced past Ella to see who else was waiting and saw that there were no other men-in-dresses. Not that she really minded. The first two had been rather frightening with their overdone, eccentric makeup. However, she rather enjoyed Miss Ella's prescence. His look was far softer than the preceeding 'ladies', and he seemed more nervous about being in a dress than presenting himself properly. She giggled softly, tapping her knee for a moment. She was debating dismissing him, or dancing with him. The duke saved her the trouble when he leaned down and whispered in her ear,  
"Your father is going to have my neck if you don't dance with her... please, for the love of all things good in this world--" he muttered urgently. The Prince waved her hand dismissively at her uncle as the orchestra began to play a slow waltz. She stood up, approaching Miss Ella,  
"Might I have this dance?" she asked, offering her upturned palm as an invitation. Cinderella didn't really want to dance with a man, but he really didn't have an excuse not to.  
". . . Uh.. sure," he said, almost certain that wasn't the proper way to put it. Geez, he SO did not belong in fancy gatherings like this. The Prince giggled good-naturedly, and so, they began to dance.  
  
Cue the sappy, annoying dual serenade. Yay for dancing out into the garden. Okay, so now we're in the garden. Director and her cohort claim no responsibility for lack of continuity. We blame the script.  
Cinderella and the Prince sat down on a low ledge near some flowering bushes, and the Prince crossed her legs in the effeminate way most proper ladies might do,  
"I'm not sure if you noticed it, Miss Ella," she said, turning to him, "but at the ball tonight there seemed to be a lot of men posing as women. Did you also notice this?" she asked, smiling genteely. She was asking for both to see if he'd realised that she had realised he was actually one of these men in dresses, and also to make for coversation. They'd been in each other's company nearly all night and had hardly said a full sentence to each other.  
Inwardly, Cinderella freaked. The prince had figured him out! He couldn't look THAT bad to put him as obvious as his stepsisters, could he? ... His stepsisters. That was it! The prince had to be referring to Cinderella's stepsisters. Cinderella attempted to shrug it off. Maybe then the prince would change the subject.  
"Really?" he said, laughing nervously. "I haven't seen any men dressed as women." He'd liked dancing and all, but that was just because he never got out of the house, not because he was dancing with the Prince. The Prince giggled softly,  
"Well, that's fine. I noticed. There were a few... but that hardly matters," she said, staring up at the cloudless night sky for a moment. She turned back to Ella and took one of his hands in her own, "I really enjoyed dancing with you tonight..." she said, gently stroking his cheek with the back of her gloved hand. Her thumb touched his bottom lip softly as she tilted his chin gently, leaning forward as if to kiss him. Cinderella's heart rate increased, and he smiled the sexiest smile he could muster,  
"Yeah," he said softly in response to the prince's statement. He leaned into the kiss for a split second when the bells in the castle's clock tower rang to announce the hour of midnight. Cinderella stood upright with a start. "CRAP! I have to go!" he said, and started to run back towards his onion-carriage.... as fast as he could in that damned dress, anyway. The Prince was up faster than you might think and chased after him, quickly but gently latching onto his wrist,  
"No--! I-- you can't go yet, it's still early," she said, finding any kind of bullshit excuse to get him to stay. "I'm sorry, I can't. . . I. . I . ." said Cinderella, mind racing for an excuse to leave. He was almost ready to throttle his fairy drag-mother for only giving him a midnight curfiew -- no he wasn't. This was the PRINCE. A MAN. There was no way he was going to stick around and suck face with another man. Did the prince have a hot sister?  
"...The dress is a rental!" Cinderella blurted out. He tore his arm from the prince and ran to his onion-carriage, losing one of his Adidas F50s on the steps on the way. The Prince was momentarily shocked at the rental comment, but quickly recollected herself and chased after him. She rushed down the stairs after him, and about halfway down tripped on something (the shoe!) and toppled down the remaining steps. CRASH BANG BOOM OW SMACK! and she landed at the bottom, sprawled across the washed flagstones. Something fell and smacked her atop the head (OW!) and landed beside her. She pushed herself up into a sitting possition and rubbed her sore head (and other parts in turn), then picked up the bludgeoning object,  
"What the--?" she picked it up; it was a shoe. An Adidas F50, to be more specific, "I didn't even know these were on the market yet... wait a minute... Ah! It's got to be his! Yes!" she stood up, striking a triumphant pose, only to recoil with admonitions of pain, "Ow..." she muttered, then hobbled back up the stairs... ow... 


	5. If the Cleat fits

**CINDERFELLA  
  
Chapter Five:**  
  
The Duke stood before the King's chamber door, rubbing his hands nervously. The King, he imagined, would have his head over this ordeal. The young lady that the Prince had gone off dancing and courting with was nowhere to be found, and when he'd asked the Prince where she might have gone, the Prince had only handed him a... soccer cleat? What? Then the Prince, who had looked rather sore, smiled dreamily and said, "It's his..."  
The Duke was rather confused by the Prince's statement... his? That had been a woman the Prince had gone dancing with. There was just no way that it had been a man. Or so he'd managed to convince himself. He looked down at this cleat, then knocked nervously.  
No noise came from within, but the door creaked open in an eerie fashion. The King was fully awake, staring intently at the Duke as he entered his bedchambers. His stare was fixed and wide-eyed, and quite unnerving,  
"What news have you of the Prince?" he asked, a severe and dangerous look in his eyes. The Duke cleared his throat and swallowed hard,  
"Well... he uhm.. he said that he found someone--"  
"Splendid! We'll begin preparations immediately! Where is she?" asked the King clapping excitedly.  
"Well, Sire, that's just the trouble... we... we can't find her anywhere..." The King's face darkened,  
"You can't find her...? How is that possible?" he asked, his tone calm, but menacing. The Duke broke out into a nervous sweat,  
"Well... at midnight she just sort of... uhm... vanished?" offered the Duke. Even the Prince didn't know where she'd gone, only that she'd said she had to leave urgently as the clock struck midnight. The King's face darkened with a sudden rage and he flew at the Duke, grabbing him by the collar, his face inches from the Duke's,  
"How does a woman just up and vanish like that!? Someone must know who she is--!"  
"Sire, please, be calm! The Prince said she left behind this... uhm... soccer cleat. It fell off her foot as she was taking her leave of the ball," he said, offering the cleat itself as evidence. The King's eyes widened as he took the shoe,  
"Wow, Adidas F50s; I didn't even know these were out yet!" he exclaimed, admiring the shoe. The King's look then turned to one that actually frightened the Duke, "Here me as I decree; whatever fair maiden it is that fits this Adidas F50 shall become the Prince's bride! Whether he bloody likes it or not!" he shouted, cackling gleefully. The Duke slapped his own forehead and rubbed his cheek; he doubted the Prince was going to approve.  
  
And so it went, and the word was spread across the kingdom that whosoever fit the fine Adidas F50 would become the Prince's bride. Can you imagine how many crossdressers AND ladies were showing up at the public fittings? Holy shit. In any case, word was sent to various households, and it eventually reached Cinderella's house. Can you imagine how badly Bradmomma and his 'daughters' were spazzing? It was utter chaos! But I won't just tell you like that. This is what went down that day:  
  
It was quiet in the house of Crawford for a short, merciful time the morning following the ball. No one had asked Cinderella about his night, but they had ranted and raved about some woman stealing the Prince's attention away and then, after she apparently left, the Prince just angsted all over the carpet until the rest of the guests cleared out. How annoying.  
In any case, in the mid-morning hours, a messenger came to the house with a message (duh, what else?). Bradmomma, still a little miffed from the ball, took it and slammed the door against the messenger. The messenger vowed to egg the Crawford estate on the weekend as he left.  
In the house, Bradmomma wasted no time in tearing the note open and reading it to herself.  
  
Please note:  
Since your name appeared on the Prince's guest list  
from the ball last night, His Royal Highness will be paying  
a visit to your household this afternoon. Please have any and  
all eligible women barefoot in preparation to try on a shoe left by the maiden the Prince is to marry. If any of the maidens in  
the house should fit the shoe, she will become the Prince's bride. Thank you  
for your cooperation, and the Prince will be with you shortly.  
Regards,  
The Royal Palace Staff & Co.  
  
Bradmomma nearly had a hernia. He started screaming and screaming, and then, in his stupor, started screaming for his 'daughters' to come immediately to the main hall. The daughters scrambled to answer their 'mother's' call and were in front of him in no time flat.  
"What's that note in your hand, Bradmomma?" Drizella asked anxiously. Bradmomma could hardly contain himself,  
"OHMIGOD! The Prince is coming! The Prince is coming!!" he shreiked, waving his arms frantically, as if he were a bird trying to stay in flight. Then, after a moment, he stopped and regained his composure,  
"Girls, go change into something nice. The Prince is coming to our house soon to fit one of you with a shoe left by the maiden that the Prince was smitten with from the ball last night! One of you MUST fit that shoe, because if you do... get this: the Prince will take you back to the Palace and the two of you'll be married!" he squeaked, barely able to contain himself. The sisters burst excitedly.  
"THE PRINCE!!!!!!!" They said, grabbing each other hands and jumping in rhythm. Then the pair made a mad dash for their wardrobes to put on the best outfits they could find, because, of course, the shoe would fit THEM.  
Cinderella, who had been listening through a door, peeked his head out gingerly.  
"Can I try on the shoe, too?" he asked tenatively, bracing in case Bradmomma should chose to throw anything at him.  
Bradmomma turned to Cinderella with a look so fierce that it probably could have made him burst into flames, had he that power. He hissed, and you'd swear you could a see a forked tongue as his eyes came aflame,  
"WHY in the world would YOU have an interest in trying the shoe on?" he asked in a dangerously calm voice, turned fully to face Cinderella.  
Mistake. BIIIG mistake. He should have known not to ask, but he HAD to open up his big mouth. It WAS his Adidas F50. And they were damned good shoes. He wanted it back. That was why he wanted to try the shoe on. Not because he LIKED this prince. Nuh-uh. Sure, he'd have to marry him if he DID try on the shoe, but he figured he could live with it as long as he was able to move out of Bradmomma's house. But now he'd gone and gotten Bradmomma pissed. Cinderella'd be lucky if he was ALIVE when the prince came.  
"Just...out of curisosity," he blurted an excuse as soon as it hit him. "I.. wanna see... how I..measure up?" Bradmomma frowned deeply as his face darkened and he marched right up to Cinderella, their faces inches apart,  
"You listen to me, you litte wretch," he hissed, about to ready to pop, "I'll not have you tarnishing my good name by asking to try on that shoe! I know how you measure up -- NOT AT ALL!" he shrieked, about ready to give Cinderella a good slap. "Now... REMOVE YOURSELF!"  
"Yes Bradmomma," Cinderella said quietly and crept back to his listening-point behind the door, hoping Bradmomma wouldn't notice he was still there.  
  
An overly-extravagant carriage pulled up in front of the Crawford Estate, and from it emerged the Prince (who looked somewhat miffed), followed by the Duke who had with him the prized shoe, atop a velvety pillow. The doors to the manour flew open and Bradmomma rushed out to greet the Prince and the Duke,  
"Your Highnesses! How wonderful to see you both! I--"  
"Cut the crap, please, Lady Crawford. Show me to your daughters so that I can leave disappointed again," she said, waving her hand. Bradmomma stopped abruptly and curtsied in apology,  
"Right this way, Your Majesties!" he said, then turned and marched back into the house, the Duke and Prince in tow. Bradmomma then led them into the main lounge, where his two 'daughters' were waiting, rather impatiently, to try on the shoe.  
The Prince almost visibly shuddered at the very sight of them. The sisters tried their best to look pretty as Anastasia, who was closest, held out his foot so he could try on the shoe. The Prince motioned the Duke forward, and the Duke sighed begrudgingly as he knelt next to Anastacia, and slid the shoe onto his foot. Although he had to seriously squish his toes up in there, Anastasia was able to get his foot into the shoe. His face lit up, and he jumped up excitedly,  
"It fits! It fits!" he squealed. The Prince raised her hand to silence him,  
"Wait," she said, motioning for Anastacia to sit, then crouched down and felt the toe end of the shoe, "Wiggle your toes, please," she said, without looking up. Anastasia wiggled what he could of his toes in the shoe, which wasn't much. The Prince smirked and shook her head,  
"As I suspected," she said, pulling the shoe off Anastacia's foot. "You wouldn't believe how many people have tried that one today. Close, but no cigar," she said, then handed the shoe back to the Duke, who then turned to Drizella, and slipped it onto his foot. Drizella knew how to counter THAT trick. He slipped the shoe on until his toes met the end of the shoe, and even though his heel wasn't entirely in the shoe he announced smugly that it fit.  
The Prince looked as though she would have a heart attack as Bradmomma looked on with pride, shrieking happily. There was no way! The Prince knew QUITE well that this wasn't the same girl that she had danced with last night. She struggled to contain herself. Then the Duke lifted Drizella's foot good-naturedly to display the whole shoe, only to reveal that his heel was yet out of the shoe quite a bit. The Prince let out a sigh of relief; well, at least she didn't have to marry him. But what now? They'd been to every house in the kingdom, and seen even more at the public fittings...  
"Are you there no other eligible maidens in the house?" she asked, a little dimly. Bradmomma shook his head vehemently,  
"Oh no, we're the only ones," he said, sighing in dismay. How could this have happened? It was almost perfect. Oh, sadness! He managed to keep himself from weeping. The sisters also denied the question vehemently.  
"Of COURSE not," Anastasia said.  
"After all, we didn't have any other sisters with us YESTERDAY," Drizella pointed out.  
This was Cinderella's cue to come bursting through the door he had been hiding behind.  
"LIKE FUN THERE's NOT!" he almost yelled. The Prince started and the Duke dropped the shoe, then quickly picked it back up. Bradmomma turned crimson, trying not to swear,  
"Ah-- no no! She's only a servant girl! Pay her no mind, she wasn't even there last night! I--"  
"Silence!" said the Prince, in the most commanding voice she could muster. The Duke then cut in,  
"ALL eligible maidens will try it on. Whether they were there or not," he said, motioning for Cinderella to sit. The Prince blinked a few times; he looked an AWFUL lot like that girl from last night... only... more manly. Maybe it was him? Maybe...?  
Cinderella resisted the urge to give his step-sisters a raspberry as he sat down to try on the shoe. This was it! He was going to get to marry the Prince and get his other Adidas F50 back! And he'd get out of this hell- hole and live happily ever after! The Duke slipped the shoe onto his foot and pressed his thumb down to check for the toes. When it was discovered the shoe did, in fact, fit him quite perfectly, the Prince snapped her fingers,  
"I knew it was you! ...Miss Ella," she said, smiling sweetly as she offered her upturned palm, much like she had the night before. Cinderella broke out into a grin that was, in retrospect, larger than he'd care to admit, and took the Prince's hand. Then a thought hit him and he hopped over to retrieve the other shoe from where he'd hidden it behind his door and put that shoe on, too. Then he went back to the Prince.  
The Prince smiled again and touched Cinderella's cheek softly,  
"Now we can go back to the Palace and be married," she said, not without an undertone of excitement in her voice. The first word that popped into Cinderella's head was "oh".. followed by the second word, "shit", finished by a healthy dose of exclamation marks.  
There was NO WAY in HELL he was going to marry another man, even if he WAS a hot prince! No! Nuh-uh. Niet! Nein!  
"Uh.. but.."Cinderella stammered. It wasn't quite as easy to vocalise the statement than it was to say it. "but I'm...I'm a man." The Prince blinked as if she were surprised, then broke into a fit of polite giggling. It didn't take long before she was nearly doubled-over with laughter. It did take her a few minutes, but she managed to calm herself enough to make a sentence,  
"Oh" she said, wiping a tear from her eye, "Ah, Ella, I already knew you were a man," she said, still tittering, "I'd known since I first saw you." Cinderella was surprised. He'd felt like a total fruitcake in that dress..  
"Oh. But still... I.. I can't.." he started but found it rather hard to finish. The Prince cocked her head to one side in a rather cute fashion, a look of slight confusion gracing her fine features,  
"Oh? But why not?" she asked, touching his arm softly. Cinderella squished his eyes shut in the hopes that it'd make his sentence easier to finish,  
"I can't marry another man!" he managed to say. The Prince snorted, trying to cover up a sudden rush of laughter, and succeeded momentarily. It wasn't long though, before she burst out laughing again, holding her stomach. Even the Duke tittered, though he was nervous. This seemed to be getting a little weird. Bradmomma and her daughters had honestly failed to see the humour in the situation. Eventually the Prince managed to calm herself. She patted Cinderella's shoulder,  
"Oh, Ella, you really are cute," she said, still giggling, "but uhm..." she paused, tapping her chin. She stood up fully, then unbuttoned her jacket and slid it down her arms to reveal not the pecs that Cinderella had once assumed were there, but a pair of ample breasts encased in a pretty, lacy brassiere. "I'm not really a man, either," she said, blushing slightly as she clasped her hands together. Cinderella TRIED not to stare. REALLY he did. But the Prince (or was it Princess? Cinderella was getting confused) had such a NICE chest that he failed miserably for a good two minutes,  
"In that case... let's go!" he said once he was able to compose himself. The Prince pulled her jacket back on and did the buttons back up. Then, without a word, she grasped Cinderella's shoulders gently and kissed his lips softly, then smiled sweetly as she took his hand and lead him away to the awaiting carriage. The Duke, with a rather happy sigh, bowed to Bradmomma (who was quite blue in the face) and his daughters,  
"Adieu, madams," he said, then followed quickly after the Prince and her... wife-to-be?  
  
And so it was decreed that Cinderella and the Prince were to be wed. And they were. And even though it was now publicly known that Cinderella was actually the man and the Prince was in fact a woman, Cinderella was still forced to wear the wedding dress at his own wedding. He was thrilled about that, but it was only one day... kinda. And so, they lived happily ever-and-many-babies-after.  
  
**THE END. Yo.**


End file.
